


Don't Forget Me

by TwistedType



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedType/pseuds/TwistedType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Birthday Present One-Shot for all the October/November Charloe fans. This turned out to be super angsty for so sorry for that. (Smut if you squint.) Complete - For now  **Cross-posted on FFN**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a Birthday present for all the October/November Charloe fans. This story did not go the way I expected at all, and in actuality is a really shitty Birthday present. So sorry for that. I might continue it with another one-shot and redeem myself, but no promises.
> 
> Sorry for any errors. No Beta.

Her head rested against the down pillow, eyes open, gazing at the moon through the open window. It was lighting up the night, and for a second she could pretend it was the streetlamp that used to glow outside her bedroom as a child — the silly light that kept the monsters away when her parents were too busy to care. When they forgot about her in favor of her brother. She missed it. She knew it was a stupid thing to miss, but she did all the same. 

Fall was just reaching Willoughby, and the nights were comfortable enough to leave the windows open. A cool breeze floating through the room, causing goose-bumps the break out across her skin. Charlie pulled the sheet around her tighter, eyes fluttering closed with a sigh. Foolishly, she tried to tell herself she wasn’t waiting up for him. Listening for the tell-tail stomp of his work boots. It was a nasty habit she’d recklessly fallen into, one that was slowly but surly breaking her. 

When they’d started this on and off game months ago she’d only expected it to be a drunken fling. He was there and she was lonely. He was too, though she knew he’d never admit it. He was the only one that truly understood her, understood everything she’d been through. The Willoughby boys had never taken up arms, never fought against a great general or led a rebellion. They’d never seen their father, brother, friends taken from them the way she had. He understood, even if he’d been the cause of some of her pain. He’d come back for her when no one else had, when she’d felt forgotten. 

But the fling they’d started was no longer just a fling to her. She wanted more. She wanted validation that she was worthy of the happiness. The kind of happiness her mother and Miles had stolen away for themselves. She was tired of hiding it from her family, sick of sneaking around. She didn’t want to be a dirty little secret. She didn’t want to be forgotten anymore. 

A choked laugh left her mouth at that thought, self-loathing finding her in the bright night. Charlotte Matheson had never been one to let a man dictate her life, but with Sebastian Monroe all the rules were different. With him she felt herself acting the lovesick fool and she hated it. 

A few days before she’d tried pushing him towards acknowledging what they had was more than just a string of one-nights stands. He’d lashed out, irritated with her for forcing his hand. She hadn’t seen him since that night. He was avoiding her at every turn. Still she stayed awake hoping. 

Another breeze ran through the room, reminding her of just how alone she was, her body instinctively searching out body-heat that wasn’t there. She clutched the sheets tighter, before dropping them, another resigned sigh leaving her lips. Quickly, she tore them from her skin, ignoring the bitter sting the cool air brought, and slid from the bed. Her feet quietly pattered across the room, and with little effort she slid the window closed, drawing the curtains tight. 

Making her way back to bed, she hopped the dark room would settle her mind and lift that weight Monroe managed to put there. She was tired of him dominating her thoughts and heart when she quite obviously wasn’t even a part of his. 

\-- 

Charlie didn’t know how long she tired to compel herself to sleep, it felt like years, but as her mind finally started to drift into darkness those familiar thumps she’d been longing for jolted her awake. He heart began pounding, her nerves fluttering in time with his steps. He’d come back. 

The door to her room opened with quite creaks as he stepped inside. She didn’t move from her side as she heard him come in, eyes remaining shut in a nearly childish manner. In her mind she saw the moves her made, slipping off his boots, removing his jacket, and working off his pants and shirt. The bed dipped as he slid behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist, body pressing into her back. He was warm and sturdy, the familiar smell of whiskey and sweat taking over her senses. He nuzzled his face into her hair, hot air leaving his nose as he took in deep breathes of her. 

“I know you’re awake.” He murmured, his rough hand rooting through the folds of fabric to find its way to the icy skin of her stomach. She flinched at his heated touch causing him to chuckle, his lips pressing down against her shoulder. 

“Why are you here.” Charlie asked, her words coming out weaker than she’d wanted. She wanted to be fierce and demanding, refusing to show how he’d affected her. 

“I missed you.” He said, as if it were obvious. She pursed her lips at that answer, wanting so desperately to believe that it was her that he missed. 

His hand strayed from the flat expanse of her stomach, to the edge of the leggings she wore, dipping below the elastic fabric. She grabbed at the hand, stopping its path. “Was it me you missed?” Her voice full of accusation. “Or someone to warm your bed?”

“Charlotte...” He groaned, pulling back away from her. She spun around, twisting in he arms, looking on his face for the first time in days. Her eyes found his in the limited light; he looked as tired as she felt. Those blue eyes that were usually so bright looked dim with dread. 

“Tell me.” She demanded though clinched teeth. 

“I thought we settled this.”

“We settled nothing, but if that’s how you feel then leave.” 

She went to shove him away, but his hand wrapped around her arm, forcing it between their bodies. Charlie didn’t struggle, just stared him down, watching the battle play out behind his eyes. He whispered her name again, this time his voice pleading. She shook her heard, fighting back angry tears. “Get out.” 

“No. Damn it.” He said, tightening his grip in her arm, pulling her closer, and trapping her against him. She swallowed, looking down away from his begging eyes. 

“Get out.” 

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’m done with this game. I don’t—” She tried again, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to be a dirty secret anymore.” 

He made a strangled noise, his other hand snatching up her chin to stare him in the eyes. “Is that what you think?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Damn it, Charlotte. I’m not good at this. I can’t just— I don’t—” He ground out uselessly, before giving up with a ragged sigh and pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was rough and needy, trying to push through everything he couldn’t say. She struggled against him, but he held her tight, hands folding behind her back. Charlie twisted her head away, leaving him with bloody bitten lips. Bass didn’t mind, continuing his assault across her cheek and down to her neck. 

“Stop it Jackass!”

“Charlie.” He whined, his lips and tongue laving at the smooth expanse of her neck. A small moan left her lips as he bit down with blunt teeth. “Charlotte.”

“I don’t want to do this.” She whispered, as his legs tangled in hers, a hand sliding over her bottom and down her thigh, tugging it over his hip. He pressed himself against her, causing a gasp to leave her lips. “Bass.” She tried again, already hating herself for the way she was feeling. 

“Why can’t this be enough?” He asked, his mouth still pressed against her skin, sliding down to pepper at her uncovered chest. Her cracked heart broke at his words, knowing she would never get from him what she truly wanted. Silly stupid dreams she let herself have of marriage and a family with him slipping out of her grasp. She rubbed the tear that fell down her cheek against the pillow, shoving back the pain that was tearing her apart inside. 

This was all she would ever get.

Poor Charlotte Matheson always one of the forgotten. 

With a heartbreaking enthusiasm, she threw herself into his desire. Hiding away her tears behind closed eyes she kissed him like it was her last moments on earth, her last moments with him. Bass didn’t question the change in her passion, giving as good as he got. 

With quick hands he shed her clothes, ravishing her naked skin with kisses and caresses as reverent as he need for her was. Charlie hid behind her shut eyes, unable to look at him, every bit of her focused on not falling apart. She tried so hard to enjoy his touch. She wanted to lock away this moment, the memory of how he felt in her arms for forever. 

When he entered her, she lost the battle, her eyes snapping open to gaze into his. The tears she’d been holding back flowed freely, and he knew in that moment what she already decided. His calloused fingers brushed at her skin, wiping away her sadness in the only way he could. 

“Please don’t.” He begged, quickening his thrust to a bruising pace. “Please don’t leave me.” 

She turned her head away then, full lips pressing a kiss into his waiting palm. A broken cry leaving her mouth as his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his mouth moving against her skin in silent pleas. She tightened her legs around his hips, hands weaving into his dirty curls, giving herself over to the painful pleasure. She felt every movement, her nerves on fire, as he loved her as only he could. As she clinched around him, Bass let out a strangled moan. His hips jerked as he chased the pleasure she gave. 

The room that had been filled with groans and whimpers fell morbidly silent, only their raged breathing filling the air. Charlie let her legs fall open, but Bass refused to move. 

“Please, Charlotte.” He prayed into her sweaty skin, hoping she’d allow him redemption. “Please.” 

A sad smile spread out over her lips, tears refusing to stop. She gently turned his head to face her, touching her forehead to his. “I can’t. She cried quietly. “I can’t.” 

—

They fell asleep like that, holding each other desperately for the last time. When Bass awoke in the morning he found himself alone in Charlie’s bed, face pressed into tear stained pillows that still smelt like her skin. His eyes futilely searched for her, instead finding her pack and crossbow gone, in their place a note with three tragic words: 

Don’t forget me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continued the thing... Not very well, but...

The blonde wiped the sweat building on her brow, wondering how it could be so hot in Texas, even in March. She thought moving into the Northern portion of the state would gain her a reprieve from the humid weather, but she'd been wrong. She didn't know how she was going to stand the summer months, especially this time around.

"You're going to wear yourself out, honey." Christine said, sliding a box next to the one Charlie just loaded into the wagon. Charlie ignored the critical side-eye the doctor gave her.

"I'm fine and you know it." She said, shuffling the boxes around in the wagon in an effort to stop them from jiggling during the ride. "Besides, I'm pregnant, not dying."

"Yes, well. You work too hard."

Charlie laughed, rolling her eyes at her adopted mother figure. She may pick at the older women, but deep down her worrying warmed Charlie's heart. It had taken a few months, but she'd gotten used to the women's mothering. It was different from the family life she was used to, but it was welcomed. When Charlie stumbled into town five months before she was carrying a broken heart and shattered dreams. Christine had plucked her up, and began nursing her back to normalcy. Charlie owed her everything, and for the first time in years she'd really begun to have hope in the future.

"I'm going now." She said, squeezing Christine's arm as she passed to the front of the wagon. With slow, but smooth movements she hoisted herself up into the wagon's bench, snapping up the reigns and giving them a quick whip.

"Don't be late for dinner!" The women called after her. Charlie gave a quick wave in answer, her eyes already focused on the path before her.

Christine's house was only a ten-minute walk from town. However, the load Charlie was carrying was much to heavy to take on her own. Once a week she delivered remedies to the sick and injured in town in an attempt to make Christine's job easier. Most people knew the basics of medicine, and tried to only call on the old women when the issue was serious.

Charlie enjoyed the work. She'd learned a bit from the grandfather over the past year, but mostly with wounds. Christine was giving her a crash course in family medicine, hoping she'd take over for her in the future. It wasn't a life Charlie would mind, in fact, the silly dreams she thought were lost when Bass rejected her were somehow falling into place. He was the only missing piece.

"Hey, Charlie..." Rick said, striding up to her wagon as she rolled past his bar. She pulled the horses up short, as he came to stand beside the wagon, giving her a hesitant smile. Rick was always a warm jovial man, ready with quick words and a shot to ease your pain. She'd made friends with him early on in her stay in town.

She tilted her head, narrowing her gaze a bit. "What is it?"

He chuckled, his smile growing. "You busy today?"

She sighed; knowing whatever he was about to ask was going to consume her attention for the rest of the day. With a role of her eyes she waved her hand for him to continue.

"I gotta drunk in there..."

"So throw so water on him. That is not my problem." She cracked the reigns to move the horses onward, but Rick stopped her short, grabbing the horse's bridle. Treating sick locals was one thing, but wandering drunks...

"Look, I know its not. But he's been passed out for almost twelve hours now. He's wheezin' and coughin' painfully. Somethin's clearly wrong with him —"

"Okay." She cut him off. "Let me finish my rounds and I'll drop back by, see what I can do."

"Thanks, kid!" He called after her, dust kicking up around his feet.

—

Her rounds went quickly, the warmer weather taking with it the winter sickness. The next round of ailments to tackle would be sinuses, but the rainy spring weather should keep that at bay for a few more weeks. Her body ached as she pulled up at Ricks bar, her pregnant body not handling a hard days work well. She was just entering her third trimester, but it seemed like over night that things had gotten more difficult.

"You made it." Rick said as she pushed open the bar door. He hurried from behind the counter, resting a warm hand on her shoulder.

"You're getting' bigger by the day, kid." He joked, poking a stubby finger at her belly. Charlie rolled her eyes, shaking him off with a gentle shove.

"I could say the same for you." She snarked back, poking a finger at his bulging gut.

The older man laughed, grabbing at her finger. "Always so mean to me."

"You deserve it!" One of the regulars hollered, earning a deeper chuckle from the man in question, as well as a few of the patrons.

"So the patient?" She asked as their laughs settled down.

"Yeah, this way." He said leading her towards the back of the bar. "He came in a few nights ago, right at the end of those stormy days. My guess is he got stuck in it and the symptoms are just settlin' in."

"Look at you, a regular Doctor."

"Yeah," He added gruffly, before pointing a hand towards a corner booth. "There he is."

Charlie turned her head, the smile on her face falling in an instant. A gust of air left her lips, knees weakening as she gazed upon his stupidly familiar jacket and his stupidly familiar curly hair. Even in the low light of the bar she could tell his tan skin was too pale, and cheeks too rosy.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, girl. You alright?"

"I'm fine." She whispered, stepping closer to Bass's sleeping form. She pressed a hand to his forehead, pushing back his matted curls. His skin was clammy, and even in the loud bar she could hear the wheezing in his lungs.

"You said he's been like this for half a day?"

"Somewhere around there... Drunk himself into a stupor before passing out. So what you thinkin', kid?"

"Pneumonia, maybe? I need to get him out of here. Could you help me get him into the wagon?"

"Sure thing, Charlie. Whatever you need."

—

Every part of him burned, his skin tight, and sticky. With every breath, pain shot through his chest, mucus deep in his lungs itching like sliding slugs. His eyes fluttered behind his lids, searching for the power to open them. With a groan he shifted, forcing them open to the dark night.

Confusion settled in on him slowly, unsure of where he was, or how he'd gotten there. The roof and walls around him were a pale white, covering the fractured and aging walls. In the corner sat the only other furniture, an empty crib, covered in shadows.

The door to the room cracked open with a quite squeak. A blurry-eyed Bass strained his neck, eyes loosing focus as he looked across the room. The air in his lungs caught at the vision that walked through the door, a violent cough leaving his lungs at the lack of air. As he struggled to breathe he knew she couldn't be real. She was dream he swore to himself.

He'd spent months looking for her, knowing the minute he woke he'd made a horrible mistake. She was untraceable, as if she'd disappeared from the planet. He'd nearly given up hope of ever finding her, taking the punishment he was handed for being such a cold-hearted bastard. He couldn't be this lucky. She was a dream and nothing more.

A cool cloth ran across his forehead as his heaves calmed. His eyes still struggled to focus, the fever too strong to fight.

"Charlotte." He whispered to the darkness, before loosing the fight.

—

Charlie sat by Bass's side, her fingers running over the rough ridges of his limp hand. It was so large compared to hers, strong even when his muscles were lax. She flexed it against her own, so small in comparison. With a sad smile she imagined those hands holding their child, a tiny thing, safe in its father's arms. With a stuttering breath she placed his palm against her stomach, his hot skin warming her flesh. Their child was becoming more active by the day, and kicked out at the hand, reaching for Bass as if it knew. Charlie smiled wide and deep, her eyes watering at the sight. With a shaking hand she wiped the traitorous tears that fell, hoping this wasn't the only interaction they would ever have.

He'd made it clear, his opinion on her, and she'd come to terms with that. It had taken her months, but she'd accepted it, and begun to think of him in obscure terms — simply a sperm donor for their child. But here he was, bursting back into her life and throwing everything off kilter; shattering the lies she'd made herself believe. She wanted to hate him for that. But as she watched him lie before her sick and weak, she couldn't muster the anger.

The man in questions shifted in his sleep, a raw wheeze breaking his lips. She pulled herself together, placing his hand back on the mattress gently.

"He looks better." Christine said from the doorway as she stepped into the dark room. Charlie nodded, leaning over to nervously check the IV in Bass's other arm.

Christine knew their history, knew the war waging within Charlie's heart. It hurt her to see the girl she viewed as a daughter so flustered and self-conscious. She didn't care how many men Sebastian Monroe had killed, if he broke Charlie again she would break him.

"You should get some sleep Charlie. You've been up all night."

"I'm fine." She insisted, her eyes not leaving Bass's sleeping form. The older women sighed, walking to Charlie's side.

"Well here." Christine held out a jar to her. "This will help with his cough."

Charlie took out the offered item, screwing off the top. Her nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of the paste. "Thanks."

"You know..." Christine started, watching as Charlie began gently rubbing the creamy mixture across the sick man's chest. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Christine."

"I know. You're a smart girl, just... Don't let him hurt you again. I don't think I have the strength to put you back together."

Charlie paused, turning back to look at her, eyes watering at the memories. "Thank you. For everything."

Christine exited the room, leaving Charlie in the quite. Bass's heavy breathing and coughs were the only noise. With tender care she returned to her task of rubbing the vapor rub across his upper chest, listening intently for changes in his breathing. As she worked her eyes trailed across his skin, taking in the details she'd forgot. A few new scars decorated his body and she selfishly wanted to know how he'd gotten them. What had he been doing for the six month's they'd been apart. Was he as miserable as she had been, or had he managed to move on?

"Charlotte?" Her eyes snapped up at the sounds of his scratchy voice, catching his crystal blue eyes. They focused in on her, loosing some of the haziness from the hours before. She let out a gust of air. "Bass" She breathed into the night like a prayer.

"Charlotte." He said again, this time grabbing her hand as if to make sure she was real. He gripped it tightly, running his thumb around her wrist, feeling her pulse beneath its pad. "I thought I was hallucinating."

She swallowed shaking her head, unable to make a sound for fear of bursting out in tears. He looked her up and down; still fearful she'd disappear. Gradually he seemed to notice the changes in her body, his brow furrowing.

"You're pregnant." He stated, eyes blinking in shock. Charlie bit the inside of her check, trying to hold back every emotion she was feeling behind a stony façade. She nodded minutely, to his words. "Is it mine?"

She opened her mouth, but her words stuck in her throat.

"Is it mine?" He asked again, voice raw with the demand. He was fearful of what her answer would be, not knowing what he would do if she said no.

"Do you want it to be?" She whispered, trying to hold back the hope that was there in her words.

"What kind of question is that?"

Charlie turned her head away at the frustration in his voice, face crumbling as her tears began to fall — the veil of rejection slipping back over her body like an old friend. She couldn't do this again.

"Charlie?" He asked softly, reaching toward her with hesitant hands. Gently he pulled her chin to face him, cursing himself as he saw the grief in her eyes.

"Yes." She rushed out in desperation, waiting for his inevitable rejection. She was ready for it, another bullet to her too caring heart.

"We're having a baby?"

"You...?"

"I made a mistake." He said, gripping her hand with a tight, comforting squeeze. Her eyes widened in disbelief, tears falling harder at her bewilderment. She trembled with shock, feeling as if she were in a dream. "I never should have let you go. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but damn it I'm asking for it."

He leaned forward, pressing his face against her golden mane. His other hand came to rest boldly upon her stomach. "Please forgive me, my beautiful girl."

"Do you mean it?"

Bass moved back, thumbing her chin in his direction gently. She looked hesitant, fearful almost of what he might say. He was a bastard for putting that uncertainty there.

"I'm not leaving, Charlotte. Whatever you are willing to give me I will selfishly take."

Charlie wrapped her arms around him, fingers tangling into his dark curls, pressing herself cheek to cheek with the man she loved. She wanted to say so many things, but her heart hurt with fear that her words would scare him away. That he would vanish, his words lies on the wind.

Breathing him in, she sighed through her tears. "Stay. Just stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... I think that's it for this one. I have some other ideas floating around so maybe you'll see more from me in the future.
> 
> XOXO


End file.
